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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1406105
Fears-What I fear most is being forgotten and left alone, and the insanity that follows.
It seems to me so very strange,
how in our lives, Voices change.
A boy so cute, who passes by.
He hasn't time, but still says "Hi".

With time his words mean even more,
A family life he has in store.
He promises, "I'll be his own",
he says, "I'll never be alone".

Soon small voices fill the room,
two young boys, my loving groom.
Family portraits, and picket fence.
A happy homelife, so make sense.

"Mommy help, I lost my shoe,
Mommy help, what do I do?."
An easy fix, as Mothers' know.
A decade past, Young boys do grow.

How angry do their words seem now,
We try to talk, but don't know how.
Hurtful words that cut through stone.
"I hate you Mom, Leave me alone!."

Phases past, their words again are kind.
Both boys gone, leaving Mommy behind.
Happy family men they turn out to be.
Content I am, but fear they'll forget me.

My husband, my saving grace.
keeps me from a darker place,
keeps me in the now and here,
His voice to me, is oh so Dear.

Sleepy now, he seems to be.
Doctors say, He's leaving me.
say we shouldn't even try.
then tell me, to say Goodbye.

I stayed with him, until the end.
He whispered "Babe, you're my best friend".
took his last breathe after that.
next to him, I numbly sat.

I listened hard, but couldn't hear,
that normal tone, that made life clear.
That one that promised, "I would be his own",
the one that said, "you'll never be alone".

We then laid him, down to rest.
All then showed up, in their best.
Voices then began to change,
Friends and Family sounded strange.

Sympathy they felt, and tried to console.
But loss cuts deep. when it shatters one's soul.
Appearances they'd make, then they all would go.
Shallow regrets made, appear to be for show.

Now no voices, do I ever hear.
My husband gone, no loved ones near.
I truly have been left here, all alone.
Did I hear voices, or was that my own?


© Copyright 2008 Angie Harris (angieh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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